Lt Alex Storm - Playing with Fire
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Karen Morris
Oct 27, 2025, 11:31:28 PM10/27/25
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((Beyond the Corridor – Caspia District – Boraxian Cityship))
The spider reared on its hind legs and screamed, rending the mausoleum’s musty breath. His front legs pawing the air like a horse bucking his rider.
Alex’s left hand pulsed. It didn’t throb because Roy had given her an analgesic, but she felt the blood slip through her hand with each beat of her heart. She planted her feet solidly on the ground and placed her good hand on the pedestal to steady herself. oO Breathe, Alex. Oo She coached herself and followed through with a deep breath despite all of the activity going on around her. oO One more breath. Okay, now focus. You’re still needed. You can do this. Oo
Imril: I have a bad idea! Cover me!
Alex’s head snapped around. oO Bad idea…Cover me? Oo
Bancroft: Worse than dosing yourself with alien nanoparticles? ::a beat:: Nevermind… I’ve got you covered!
Roy tossed his phaser at the arachnid. As it made contact, Alex could barely hear the dull thunk before it toppled to the ground. oO I think he and I are going to have to have a conversation about tactics when this is all over. Oo
Silveira: Good shot Doc, but you're using the wrong end. Let’s just fire all we got to distract her.
Storm: ::Swallowing her words:: You call that a good shot?
Somehow, the humor supplied Alex with the ability to really concentrate and once again to join in the fight. Raising her phaser, she ran her finger across the trigger, feeling it give under her gentle pull. The beam hissed and died against its carapace, leaving the stink of scorched ozone.
Bancroft: ::shouting:: Hey! Octo-horror! You’re looking a little ::panting:: sluggish! Want a prescription for ::huff:: arachnoarthritis?
As Alex saw Bancroft rush at the chittering creature like a child racing after its (hairy eight-legged) ball, she bent her knees ready to take off after him. oO And he called me stupid! Pot - meet kettle. Oo
Silveira: Alex break left, I’ll go right…
Storm: On it.
The bend in her knees gave her the spring she needed to break left trying to confuse the creature so that Imril could complete the other dumb idea. Were they going to win the day on stupid notions?
Silveira: Aren’t you an Itsy Bitsy Spider…
Imril: Fire in the hole!
Silveira: IMRIL DUCK…
Bancroft: ::muttering:: All right, fine. That was definitely a better bad idea than mine.
Alex barely managed to turn around and fall to the ground with her back to the explosion while cradling her injured hand to her chest.
Silveira: Great work Samwise Imril… Aim for the injury, that’s the weak spot.
Rolling out of the way and getting back to her feet, she felt dizzy for a moment. Looking down at her charred hand, blood and other liquids oozed out of the blackened portions, leaving residue plastered to her shirt. Her words meant only for her hand, she said …
Storm: Sorry. I’ll get you taken care of as soon as I can.
Bancroft: ::shouting over the chaos:: This isn’t just a sanctum… it’s an exhaust control system! The flame… it isn’t symbolic – it’s plasma, vented through a network of arteries running throughout the cityship.
A tribal drum pounded in her skull. Boom—boom—bang. Plasma. Boom. Rattle. Network. Bang bu dum.
Bancroft: … and he’s overridden the safeties. Pressure’s building toward a catastrophic discharge. This chamber could become a kiln – and the Cityship with it!
Alex turned around with all the grace of a drunken woman. She blinked twice; the black spot only deepened, as if the darkness had learned to breathe.
Silveira: We don’t need more problems…
Storm: The drums are loud enough, thank you!
Imril: Response
Spinning around another half, Alex moved toward the light. At least it was easier to see that.
Andoren: Yes! YES! Behold, my children! The Cleansing Flame is nigh!
Andoren: Witness… the dawn of our rebirth!
Andoren raised his arms. The floor beneath them chose to dance when no one else would. One foot in front of the other with her knees bent, Alex managed to stay upright. It wasn’t even conscious thought, but muscle memory from an age gone by of tactical practices and maneuvers.
Andoren: Let the unworthy be cast into the Flame! Let the old city die screaming – from her ashes, the new age shall rise, cleansed and renewed!
A blast of cool air and black hair flashed past Alex, careening toward the four-armed heretic clad in white.
Bancroft: ::hoarse:: It’s… it’s turning on him!
Silveira: The enemy of my enemy…
From somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Alex conjured the response.
Storm: … Is my friend.
Imril: Response
Andoren must have noticed it as well.
Andoren: NO! OBEY ME! I AM THE FLAME!
People scuffled. Some Boraxians rushed to defend Andoran, some panicked trying to find a way out. The spider danced left then right trying to circumvent or injure anyone who got between the malevolence and his prey. Screams echoed loudly in the cupola of the chamber.
Silveira: GET THE CIVILIANS, WE ARE LEAVING…
The cacophony reverberating throughout the sacred room quieted the raucous pounding in Alex’s head to a mild thrumming. She heard Sil and started something inside snapped back into place. Blinking her eyes wide trying to get them to focus, she herded as many as she could toward the exits as Andoren bellowed…
Andoren: I AM YOUR PROPHET! I AM THE WICK!
Black hair fell damp and clung to Alex's face. She didn't have the will to wipe it away.
Bancroft: The exhaust gates that run through the Cityship – they’re closing. He’s lost control of the dispersal matrix. Something’s overriding it…
Silveira: Finally something in our favor. Let’s fall back, I have a bad feeling about this…
Storm: You mean a worse feeling than usual?
Imril: Response
Slowly the room shifted and changed, with the panels forming what appeared as an exhaust port. Vitor stepped closer to the Doc.
Bancroft: ::to himself, studying his tricorder:: That’s Starfleet code… it’s redirecting the overload…
Fired burst up dancing their own victory over Andoren. Jumping and twisting, turning and spewing their own hatred.
Bancroft: ::yelling:: Andoren! It’s over! You’ve failed – if you continue, you’ll only destroy yourself! You don’t have to do this!
Silveira: He won't listen.
Storm: He doesn’t want to listen.
Imril: Response
Wide eyed, four arms flailing in the air, mouth open and shrieking with glee.
Andoren: THEN THROUGH THE CLEANSING FLAME, I SHALL BE REBORN! MORE PURE! MORE TRUE!
Two clenched fists fell as lightning to the controls one final time. Then raising his shining eyes to the sun's edifice etched into the glass, he raised all four arms in one of the Boraxian's most sacred poses.
Andoren: FOR ELLET!
Storm turned her back. She’d seen enough flames for one lifetime—and not all of them had burned outside her skin.
Silveira: I don’t know about you guys, but I would love an ice cream right now.
Storm: Yes, ::swallowing hard.:: But only after my hand is taken care of, and I’ve been able to properly clean up.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
He looked around. There were a few civilians still there. Vitor cleaned his forehead from the sweat that had poured to it and took a few steps. He bent over and picked up the Doc’s phaser.
He shrugged and smiled at the others. With a wink he tossed Bancroft his phaser.
Silveira: Hey Doc, don’t forget this. ::he turned to Imril.:: Good job Lieutenant Imril, that was very quick thinking. ::Finally he rested his eyes on Alex.:: You too Lieutenant, but next time stop playing with fire.
Storm: I never said I liked it. But at least the second time, it needed to be done.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
He looked around one last time. It hadn’t worked as he wished, but at least it was done.
Silveira: Let’s mop up these people, see if they need assistance and let’s try to hail the ship.
Storm: We should hurry … I’m a bit … dizzy.
The world blurred at the edges, but somewhere under the ache and heat, relief flickered—a small, stubborn spark that refused to go out.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
~*~
Tags / End Scene for Storm
~*~
Lt Alex Storm
Tactical Officer
USS Artemis
O240103SK2
The spider reared on its hind legs and screamed, rending the mausoleum’s musty breath. His front legs pawing the air like a horse bucking his rider.
Alex’s left hand pulsed. It didn’t throb because Roy had given her an analgesic, but she felt the blood slip through her hand with each beat of her heart. She planted her feet solidly on the ground and placed her good hand on the pedestal to steady herself. oO Breathe, Alex. Oo She coached herself and followed through with a deep breath despite all of the activity going on around her. oO One more breath. Okay, now focus. You’re still needed. You can do this. Oo
Imril: I have a bad idea! Cover me!
Alex’s head snapped around. oO Bad idea…Cover me? Oo
Bancroft: Worse than dosing yourself with alien nanoparticles? ::a beat:: Nevermind… I’ve got you covered!
Roy tossed his phaser at the arachnid. As it made contact, Alex could barely hear the dull thunk before it toppled to the ground. oO I think he and I are going to have to have a conversation about tactics when this is all over. Oo
Silveira: Good shot Doc, but you're using the wrong end. Let’s just fire all we got to distract her.
Storm: ::Swallowing her words:: You call that a good shot?
Somehow, the humor supplied Alex with the ability to really concentrate and once again to join in the fight. Raising her phaser, she ran her finger across the trigger, feeling it give under her gentle pull. The beam hissed and died against its carapace, leaving the stink of scorched ozone.
Bancroft: ::shouting:: Hey! Octo-horror! You’re looking a little ::panting:: sluggish! Want a prescription for ::huff:: arachnoarthritis?
As Alex saw Bancroft rush at the chittering creature like a child racing after its (hairy eight-legged) ball, she bent her knees ready to take off after him. oO And he called me stupid! Pot - meet kettle. Oo
Silveira: Alex break left, I’ll go right…
Storm: On it.
The bend in her knees gave her the spring she needed to break left trying to confuse the creature so that Imril could complete the other dumb idea. Were they going to win the day on stupid notions?
Silveira: Aren’t you an Itsy Bitsy Spider…
Imril: Fire in the hole!
Silveira: IMRIL DUCK…
Bancroft: ::muttering:: All right, fine. That was definitely a better bad idea than mine.
Alex barely managed to turn around and fall to the ground with her back to the explosion while cradling her injured hand to her chest.
Silveira: Great work Samwise Imril… Aim for the injury, that’s the weak spot.
Rolling out of the way and getting back to her feet, she felt dizzy for a moment. Looking down at her charred hand, blood and other liquids oozed out of the blackened portions, leaving residue plastered to her shirt. Her words meant only for her hand, she said …
Storm: Sorry. I’ll get you taken care of as soon as I can.
Bancroft: ::shouting over the chaos:: This isn’t just a sanctum… it’s an exhaust control system! The flame… it isn’t symbolic – it’s plasma, vented through a network of arteries running throughout the cityship.
A tribal drum pounded in her skull. Boom—boom—bang. Plasma. Boom. Rattle. Network. Bang bu dum.
Bancroft: … and he’s overridden the safeties. Pressure’s building toward a catastrophic discharge. This chamber could become a kiln – and the Cityship with it!
Alex turned around with all the grace of a drunken woman. She blinked twice; the black spot only deepened, as if the darkness had learned to breathe.
Silveira: We don’t need more problems…
Storm: The drums are loud enough, thank you!
Imril: Response
Spinning around another half, Alex moved toward the light. At least it was easier to see that.
Andoren: Yes! YES! Behold, my children! The Cleansing Flame is nigh!
Andoren: Witness… the dawn of our rebirth!
Andoren raised his arms. The floor beneath them chose to dance when no one else would. One foot in front of the other with her knees bent, Alex managed to stay upright. It wasn’t even conscious thought, but muscle memory from an age gone by of tactical practices and maneuvers.
Andoren: Let the unworthy be cast into the Flame! Let the old city die screaming – from her ashes, the new age shall rise, cleansed and renewed!
A blast of cool air and black hair flashed past Alex, careening toward the four-armed heretic clad in white.
Bancroft: ::hoarse:: It’s… it’s turning on him!
Silveira: The enemy of my enemy…
From somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Alex conjured the response.
Storm: … Is my friend.
Imril: Response
Andoren must have noticed it as well.
Andoren: NO! OBEY ME! I AM THE FLAME!
People scuffled. Some Boraxians rushed to defend Andoran, some panicked trying to find a way out. The spider danced left then right trying to circumvent or injure anyone who got between the malevolence and his prey. Screams echoed loudly in the cupola of the chamber.
Silveira: GET THE CIVILIANS, WE ARE LEAVING…
The cacophony reverberating throughout the sacred room quieted the raucous pounding in Alex’s head to a mild thrumming. She heard Sil and started something inside snapped back into place. Blinking her eyes wide trying to get them to focus, she herded as many as she could toward the exits as Andoren bellowed…
Andoren: I AM YOUR PROPHET! I AM THE WICK!
Black hair fell damp and clung to Alex's face. She didn't have the will to wipe it away.
Bancroft: The exhaust gates that run through the Cityship – they’re closing. He’s lost control of the dispersal matrix. Something’s overriding it…
Silveira: Finally something in our favor. Let’s fall back, I have a bad feeling about this…
Storm: You mean a worse feeling than usual?
Imril: Response
Slowly the room shifted and changed, with the panels forming what appeared as an exhaust port. Vitor stepped closer to the Doc.
Bancroft: ::to himself, studying his tricorder:: That’s Starfleet code… it’s redirecting the overload…
Fired burst up dancing their own victory over Andoren. Jumping and twisting, turning and spewing their own hatred.
Bancroft: ::yelling:: Andoren! It’s over! You’ve failed – if you continue, you’ll only destroy yourself! You don’t have to do this!
Silveira: He won't listen.
Storm: He doesn’t want to listen.
Imril: Response
Wide eyed, four arms flailing in the air, mouth open and shrieking with glee.
Andoren: THEN THROUGH THE CLEANSING FLAME, I SHALL BE REBORN! MORE PURE! MORE TRUE!
Two clenched fists fell as lightning to the controls one final time. Then raising his shining eyes to the sun's edifice etched into the glass, he raised all four arms in one of the Boraxian's most sacred poses.
Andoren: FOR ELLET!
Storm turned her back. She’d seen enough flames for one lifetime—and not all of them had burned outside her skin.
Silveira: I don’t know about you guys, but I would love an ice cream right now.
Storm: Yes, ::swallowing hard.:: But only after my hand is taken care of, and I’ve been able to properly clean up.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
He looked around. There were a few civilians still there. Vitor cleaned his forehead from the sweat that had poured to it and took a few steps. He bent over and picked up the Doc’s phaser.
He shrugged and smiled at the others. With a wink he tossed Bancroft his phaser.
Silveira: Hey Doc, don’t forget this. ::he turned to Imril.:: Good job Lieutenant Imril, that was very quick thinking. ::Finally he rested his eyes on Alex.:: You too Lieutenant, but next time stop playing with fire.
Storm: I never said I liked it. But at least the second time, it needed to be done.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
He looked around one last time. It hadn’t worked as he wished, but at least it was done.
Silveira: Let’s mop up these people, see if they need assistance and let’s try to hail the ship.
Storm: We should hurry … I’m a bit … dizzy.
The world blurred at the edges, but somewhere under the ache and heat, relief flickered—a small, stubborn spark that refused to go out.
Imril/Bancroft: Responses?
~*~
Tags / End Scene for Storm
~*~
Lt Alex Storm
Tactical Officer
USS Artemis
O240103SK2
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